Viola Drabbles
by Kleenexwoman
Summary: I put my playlist on shuffle and wrote stories around songs for Viola.


**1. "Robot Girl," Was Not Was**

Diogenes presses the tip of the knife into her skin, and Viola nearly faints with the pain she imagines she feels. But there is no pain. There is no feeling at all. As he drags the knife along her skin, there is no blood.

He peels up the flap of tanned skin to show glistening silvery wires underneath. "You're unloved and unloving," he repeats, "and now you know why."

She stares at her arm, her cognitive processes grinding to a halt as metallic things whir in her head, as sparks cloud her vision. All she can hear is his laughter.

**2. "I Put a Spell on You," Marilyn Manson**

The herbs she's sprinkled into the olive oil are working. Viola can see the blond agent's expression change from indifference to wonder, see the blush spread across his cheeks. She smiles, cocks her head. flirts a little. Her magic is subtle, but she doesn't need very much of it.

She sees the other man, the heavyset cop, sniff at the olive oil his face turns sour. He is watching her carefully, knowingly. But how could a New York policeman be familiar with the magic of these isles?

Her fingers curl into fists under the table. She won't let him interfere.

**3. "Don't Make Me Kill You Again," the Groovie Ghoulies**

Diogenes tosses Viola's limp body into the sea and smiles. His brother's obnoxious sweetheart is finally dead.

That night as he lies sleepless, a clammy pair of hands wrap around his throat. Viola's hair is tangled with seaweed. When she opens her mouth, saltwater spills out.

He buries her in the garden this time. At sunrise, she claws her way up from the lilies, her face caked with dirt, and goes for his eyes.

Finally, he cuts off her limbs and flies to New York. But her feet follow him across the bottom of the sea, to revenge and Aloysius.

**4. "Folsom Prison Blues," Johnny Cash**

The gun is still hot in her hand. Aloysius's eyes are blue and blank. His blood is so very red.

Diogenes's arm slips around her waist. "Was it good for you?" he asks. "Do you love him now? Do you feel shame? Grief? Fear?" He smiles wickedly. "Arousal?"

"Nothing," she says. "I don't feel anything." She holsters the gun, and knows it wouldn t have made any difference if she d stayed away and let him live. "What about you? Are you satisfied?"

"I don't believe I ever shall be," he answers softly, "but it's as much as I will ever get."

**5. "Addicted to Bad Ideas," World/Inferno Friendship Society**

At age seven, she spent a night in the woods and got pneumonia.

At age thirteen, she lost her virginity to a Gypsy she met on vacation with her parents in Florence.

At age twenty-one, she drank a thousand-dollar bottle of wine and threw up on her father s shoes.

At age twenty-eight, she leapt into the English Channel with stones in her pockets to see if she'd die.

At age thirty, she wrote love poetry for a man who she knew would never love her back.

At age thirty-five, she flew to New York for a man she d met once.

**6. "Untold Stories," Hot Rize**

It's like trading, the secrets they tell.

He tells of Helen, her dark beauty and grace; she tells of her school friend Adelaide, the kisses they told nobody of. He tells of Charlie, how he grew from a shy, dreamy boy to a man he loved who died.

He tells of his father, and she can see his eyes grow hard; she tells of her mother, how she died in her boudoir, surrounded by her cold jewels like a pharaoh.

He tells of Diogenes, the times his brother loved him the only way he could.

She tells him fairy tales.

**7. "I Saw a Stranger With Your Hair," John Gorka**

She can never put him out of her mind, the way she could the others.

Her next has his hair, white gold, and she loves the way the light falls on it as she cards it through her fingers. Her next wears black suits, his figure slim and graceful in them, and her next has the cutting blue eyes that pierced her heart. Her next whispers sweet nothings to her in a drawl like honeysuckle and swamp heat.

She knows she s collecting pieces of him, but they're never enough. She s left the most important piece of herself with him forever.

**8. "Ramble On," Led Zeppelin**

The chill sea breeze sweeps across the balmy island, and she knows fall is coming.

Aloysius sleeping next to her is warm, familiar. He wouldn't like the cold. She thinks of their passion cooling in the English autumn, dropping away like leaves from trees. Indifference is a thousand times worse than loneliness.

Anyway, she's been on Capraia long enough. Her feet itch for new grounds, her hands and mouth for new desires.

Perhaps they ll meet each other again, paths crossing by chance, by fate. And when they do, they ll be strangers all over again, their hearts and bodies uncharted land.


End file.
